The point of a pencil faces west and its crusty eraser faces east
so within a second I have shared a thought about an object within my sight-line
Is this pencil filled with graphite? Who knows-but I’m trying-ever so hard to get this site up and working.
Will it ever be the site of a future writer or will it turn out to be the gibberish it appears to be.
Only you guys can comment with your feedback and tell me if I should pursue this dream or leave it as it is-the ramblings of an almost successfull writer…

Leon Fishbone was scared.
He was shaking in his scales as the butcher picked him out of the tank of water where he had resided for the last month.
Previously he lived amongst the other Salmon on the coast, until one day a net swooped down and caught him along with many of his friends.
All that remained of them, after years of living near the bottom of the ocean, was an upsweep of sand that eventually settled into a newborn hill.
Leon always knew there was a chance he might get caught, but on the morning of the first cold day in October it gave him shutter when the net dragged him up to the top of the water then threw him along with his buddies into a big hole of an even bigger ship.
Each fish weighed at least five pounds and the pressure with one of them on top of the other resulted in the demise of some.
Leon felt fortunate to have survived the holocaust and flapped his fins in the glass tank he finally released into.
But soon enough he decided that this was the end for him, because he had heard tell of what happened to most of the Salmon he had arrived with.
He overheard it from the fisherman on the boat he’d been captured, but chose not to, but chose not to believe it until he listened to a conversation, through the glass wall between himself and the butchers in the market.
The word was out that they would be taken away and exploited in the fish market as they froze their fins off waiting to be purchased by one of the big supermarket chains.
From there they would be cut up and sold to the highest bidder.
Yes that was Leon’s fear and on a cold November morning at the pier it became reality and it was the end for him.
Because, after all, he was really and always would have been part of the food chain.

What if every time you updated your computer you saved a life?
What if every time you pressed the call button on your phone you saved a tree?
And if each time you tapped your Ipad escape button, you freed an innocent hostage.
Negotiations galore; No I don’t think so.
Made up scenarios; Perhaps.
But they are all subjective and open to opinion.
In a world where less should be more, we follow rules and the rules here are enter and execute.
The power of the finger aligns with a keyboard, is all energy, which floats through the air via satellite, mixed with ones aura. And it comes back and tries to save us all.
We have moved into an age of obsessive behavior, because our present inventions have turned us into drones that follow their rules.
We have become a society of conditioned beings, that are told what to do and with what device to do it.
And since there is really nothing wrong with that, why not think of it as a true save. One which is a chance that mankind can heal itself.
So go ahead and press that key.
You might just do some good after all.